


A Story During War Time

by morephan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Dan-centric, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of homophobia, WW2, War, fanily issues, idk what to put tbh, mentions of illness, nurse phil, soldier dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morephan/pseuds/morephan
Summary: Dan, unknowingly to his family, despises war. He wanted a life, a family of his own, but being drafted into the second world war, Dan realizes, may not lead to his life having a happy ending. He befriends his nurse, Phil, and they hit it off almost immediately. Dan begins to think that maybe, just maybe, he has a shot at a happy ending.





	

Dan had already said goodbye to his family and boarded the train. He usually enjoyed train rides, but that was because he usually enjoyed the destination. The rain seemed to never stop in England, but today it had. He pressed his forehead against the glass window and peered out into the beautiful landscape. They had just left London, and it would certainly be a journey north. 

Dan pulled at the collar around his neck, sighing at how it felt like a noose. He folded his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting. Dan had never quite experienced war-time. He heard stories from his father and grandfather about the world war, but never thought something like that would happen again. Even when his professor went on and on about how the war was raging in the east, Dan never believed it would truly affect him. But it had. 

\--

"Dan? Are you doing okay?"

Phil asked him as he brought more firewood into the dark room. Dan wasn't really sure where Phil had gotten it from, just that he had gotten it for him. Dan mentioned how he was cold, and there Phil was, with firewood in his arms. 

"Let me help you." Dan got up from underneath the blankets to help Phil stoke the fire. 

"Get back in bed, Dan. You know you need to stay warm."

Dan shrugged, and allowed himself to lay back down. 

"The fever isn't that bad, Phil. I'll be fine."

\--

Dan smiled as the train rolled through the hillside. This was always his favorite part of any journey, the views. His grandmother used to tell him stories of her visiting his grandfather up north, and how the hills seemed to tell her she was one step closer to seeing her love. She cried the most when Dan boarded the train. His father nodded his head, sending his son off to battle in his stead. His mother didn't even come. That will haunt him forever. 

"I'll write to you, Daniel. I promise you I will."

Dan tried to look forward to this, even though she had never kept her promises before. His grandmother makes excuses as for why his mother never did as she said she would, but it was okay. Dan had made his peace with his mother. His father, however, was a different story. Dan regarded him as a war hero for the longest time, until he realized killing someone wasn't something he wanted to be proud of. 

\--

"Phil, I'm fine. I promise." Dan's vision blurred and his words slurred, but he knew he wanted to help Phil. Phil had done everything for him, it was the least he could do. 

Phil had dropped the firewood to the floor and held Dan up as best as he could. Dan was quite a bit taller than him, which Dan knew made it even more difficult. He felt bad constantly, always felt like he owed something to Phil. He did, of course, but he had no way of paying him in return. 

"You are not fine, and for once just please let me take care of you." Phil blew his hair out of his face as he plopped Dan back in bed, bundling him up in the covers that were always too thin. 

Phil noticed the nurses staring at how he was interacting with Dan, and dismissed them, "The patient is just being uncooperative. I'll take care of it. You all can see to your work elsewhere. Thank you."

"I can take care of myself." Dan mumbled as his eye lids fluttered, struggling to stay open. He was nearly unconscious, but he still had a fleeting anxiety that his feelings for Phil, even though Dan himself hadn't quite figured them out yet, would bubble to the surface. There would be horrible gossip. Dan had heard the stories of men who were tortured for who they loved. He shuddered just thinking about it.

"I know you can. But it's my turn." Phil felt Dan's forehead, alarmed that it had become even hotter since he had gotten firewood.

"Okay." Dan said as he, without thinking, rested his hand on Phil's wrist, smiling slightly at the feeling of Phil caring for him. Dan dozed off and dreamed of taking care of Phil.

\--

Dan pulled out his little black journal, and began to write. He wrote out his hopes of survival, of a future beyond this war. Dan had big dreams of a future of his own, but those were often pummeled by his fathers wishes for him. This future often entailed a wonderful spouse, an easy job, perhaps something creative, and a big home with a dog. Thoughts of him stoking a fire for someone he loved in their house together brought him comfort. He almost forgot where he was on a train to. Many soldiers had already died, and he was lucky to have been drafted a little bit later in the war. Morale was low in England, but there was still a hope that there would be an end to this war. People say it's begun to be even worse than the war only a few years previous. There are rumors of the States even joining the effort. 

His words on the paper soon became unintelligible due to the unrelenting tears that had been falling since he had thought about his future. What future did he have? He was stuck on this damn military train car to offer himself as a sacrifice for something he didn't even believe in. Dan cursed himself for being so selfish. His father and grandfather would be disappointed in him if they knew he was dreading this day ever since the letter came in the mail. 

"It's your duty, Daniel. I know you understand that."

His father finally seemed at least a little bit proud of him. Dan thought it was nice to see at least once in his life. Even if it was for something he wasn't proud of himself. Maybe once—no. Maybe if Dan returned home, his father would be proud enough of him to allow him to look elsewhere for an education instead of that dreary school he's attending now.

Before Dan knew it, he was crying again. He was constantly being pulled in a hopeful direction when he knew he wouldn't make it out of this God-forsaken war. He couldn't help it, it's just who he was. In the midst of all of this drudgery and sadness, he still had one tiny shred of hope. 

\-- 

"Dan, it's not that bad. Would you please sit still?" Phil chuckled, handing Dan a bottle of some awful tasting alcohol. Dan thought it was cherry flavored, but he couldn't really tell. 

"It IS that bad, Phil. You're digging a bullet out of my thigh, and it IS that bad. What the hell is this stuff anyways?"

Dan gripped on to Phil's shirt, and winced in pain. Phil kept saying sorry under his breath, which Dan thought was pretty adorable, and it was the only thing Dan could think about other than the pain. Well, that and the fact that this was the closest he and Phil had ever been. 

"It was the only thing we had. We ran out of any actual meds a few weeks ago. Oh, ouch, sorry." 

Dan took a deep breath and put his forehead on Phil's shoulder. He was beginning to get a little bit woozy from pain, but was thankful for what Phil had done to help him so far. He yelled in pain as Phil finally pulled out the damn bullet. Dan collapsed back on the bed, trying not to start crying. 

"Dan, you should really be more careful." Phil said softly as he was bandaging the wound. Dan was lucky. The bullet had missed any bones, nerves, or arteries, so he had a pretty good chance at healing properly. At least that's what Phil said. Dan believed Phil. It was so easy to believe Phil when he brought Dan blankets and firewood and shitty alcohol that tasted of cherries. Is this what it was like to be a soldier? 

"It's war, Phil. I can't really control it. If I could, you know I'd choose to get sick or shot or anything just so I could spend more time with you." Dan chuckled and shut his eyes. He frowned and realized what he'd said, "That was selfish. I should be out there. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Phil asked, putting a damp cloth to Dan's forehead. This had become routine over the long weeks that passed. Dan would fall ill, or get hurt, and he would come see Phil. Phil would dismiss the other nurses, and spend time privately with Dan. 

"I don't know. I feel bad, and you're the only one who cares enough to stick around. Even though it's your job." Dan knew he was becoming more and more honest, but the thick liquid corrupted his blood and begged him to tell Phil more. Dan wanted to so badly. He wanted to tell Phil his hopes. He wanted to tell Phil about the house he wanted to buy, and his favorite dog breed. He wanted to tell Phil how all he ever wanted was for his father to be proud of him and his mother to write him. He wanted to tell Phil everything. 

"I know. You need rest. Why don't you go on to sleep?" Phil asked, brushing his fingers softly against Dan's eyelids. He got up off of Dan's bed and began to walk away, but Dan grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. 

"Thank you for taking care of me."

\--

Dan would train, and train, and train until his commander felt as if his troupe were ready to be on the front lines. At least that's what Dan had picked up from the meeting they had in London after he had been drafted. Dan was scared, incredibly scared actually. He never said so, but he was. 

Dan closed his leather bound journal, telling himself it was pointless to write if no one would read it. His grandmother always encouraged him to journal, and that one day, years from now, he'll look back on those memories and be proud of himself for making it through. Dan figured he wouldn't ever make it in this war. No one would read his journals. No one would be proud. But for some reason, he tucked the little journal back in his suitcase. 

\--

"What are you writing about?" Phil asked curiously, peering over Dan's shoulder. Dan chuckled and shut the journal so Phil couldn't see inside. 

"The war. How long it's taking my leg to heal."

You. 

Dan didn't say it, but that's definitely what he was writing about. He wrote down his feelings that the war was worth it if he got to meet and grow close to Phil. He was thankful he had been shot, just so he had that extra time with him. Dan never thought he would fall in love, but if he did, he was sure it would feel like this. He was thankful he had that little leather journal now. He could keep his feelings tucked away, for no one but him to see. For now, at least. Maybe one day, when it was safe, he would share them with someone. 

"You're so whiney. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, my POOR leg! If only Phil had left it in so I could've DIED! That would've been SO much better!" Phil chuckled and reached for the journal, but Dan grabbed his hands. A sudden intimacy neither of them were expecting. Phil's eyes were round with surprise, his mouth formed in a little O shape.

"Sorry." Dan said quickly, letting go of Phil's hands. He chuckled and picked up his journal, which had fallen to the ground. Dan walked back to his bed, trying to calm down. He hoped Phil hadn't noticed the blush in his cheek. Phil cleared his throat and went back to his work. 

\--

Hill after hill passed, city after city. Dan watched the world go by as if it was his entire life. It was incredibly hard for Dan to not become downtrodden. He already missed his family, even throughout all of their differences, they were the only thing he had. He'd never been in love, never had a stable relationship. Sure, he'd fancied girls before, dated even, it just... never clicked for him. He tried to keep his mind off of all that could've been, should've been.

Dan thought of his childhood, curled up in his father's lap, listening to him tell the story Dan had heard so many times. His mother was a nurse in the world war. It was a dangerous job, and his father saw her as a superhero. She nursed him back to health went he caught a fever, or took out shrapnel when he was hurting. He always asked for her any time he needed medical assistance, and she always came. The war ended, but their love continued. Dan always found beauty and hope in that story. Now, it made him smile. Perhaps, maybe, Dan would find someone during this time. A beautiful girl giving flowers to a foreign soldier who was on leave for a day or two. Or maybe he would find a lovely nurse himself. That truly would be a story his father would be proud to hear. 

"Just like your father! A war hero and a charmer." Dan imagined his father beaming at him once he came home with a woman on his arm.

Dan didn't feel like that story was something he wanted to be a part of. He knew why. He knew why he didn't fall in love with girls. He knew why he wouldn't ever find a wife. He knew it wasn't for him, and he knew that admitting to this would guarantee his fathers disapproval for his entire life. But he wasn't his father, no matter how much he wanted to be. 

\--

"Dan? Dan, are you okay? Can you hear me?" Phil was shaking Dan, while a nurse was vigorously wiping sweat from his forehead away with a cool cloth. 

Dan tried to mutter yes, but he couldn't feel his tongue. It hurt so badly, even to speak. The searing pain in his thigh seeped all the way up his back and back down to his toes. 

"Is he going to be okay?" Dan heard the nurse whisper to Phil, who didn't answer. He dismissed the nurse, telling her how he could tend to Dan better by himself. Whether or not that was true physically, Dan couldn't tell, but the nurses absence allowed Phil to bring Dan into his arms, which made Dan feel calm once more. 

The pain receded after a few minutes that seemed like centuries, and Phil was removing Dan's sweat soaked clothing. Dan had found the ability to speak, and muttered to Phil, "Didn't think you taking off my clothes would be like this, but I'll take what I can get."

"Dan. You scared me." Phil didn't seem like he was quite in the mood to joke around. It made sense. Dan lifted his arm slowly and touched Phil's face. He frowned. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Dan had found his nurse, but it wasn't who he was expecting. It was so much more. The one thing Dan wanted most in life, a future with someone he loved, had almost been ripped from him in an instant. It was so dangerous. Dan wasn't straight, and he was positive Phil wasn't either. He knew they cared for each other, but the dangers that involve loving a man if you are one terrified Dan. The only thing that outweighed his fear was his entire being telling him that he wanted Phil. He wanted Phil. He wanted him forever. Fuck the war, fuck his family, he wanted Phil.

"Kiss me." 

"What?"

"Phil. Kiss me, please."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Phil's lips pressed softly against his own, and lingered there. They stayed like this, together, for a long while, until Dan felt okay again. 

Dan had accepted it. Dan didn't care what his father thought anymore. Dan wanted to believe that he and Phil would return to London, buy a house, start a fire, and be with each other for as long as his parents had. 

But that was not his story. 

\--

Dan peered out the window, seeing the military base for the first time. People were bustling around, preparing for the new troops to get off the train. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young man. About his height, maybe a little older. The young man smiled, not just with his mouth, but with his eyes as well. He waved to Dan, and Dan slowly waved back. He didn't know this man, and yet he felt as if he knew him forever. 

\--

Phil ran his finger down the leather bound black journal, smiling at how worn out it had gotten. He felt as if he was trespassing, but he knew he was not. Dan had given it to him. He said it was Phil's, that his journal should not go unread, it was his story. Phil hadn't been able to read it for a long while, but the war had ended. Phil figured it was time.

He looked out of the window of the train and saw the northern hills slowly getting further and further away. He would see London soon. He used to call that city his home, but he no longer believed in a home without Dan. He found home in every fiber of Dan's being, in every atom, every cell. Dan was home.

Phil sighed, and opened Dan's journal. He began to read. 

'June 11th, 1930. Grandmother gave me this journal for my fifteenth birthday. I'm not too sure what to write. Maybe I'll write my goals? Or my aspirations? I'm not sure.'

Phil read ten years worth of journal entries on his train ride. They were relatively short, and he chuckled at how Dan always felt journaling was pointless. That is, until he had gotten his first fever at the base. Until he met Phil for the first time. Before the bullet, before the infection. It was just a fever. It wasn't that bad. Phil had brought him firewood, and Dan was grateful. It was a simple thing, but the fact that Dan found it kind and important enough to write in his journal made Phil's heart swell. 

The last entry Dan wrote was a day in September of 1941. 

'Phil kissed me. I never believed my story would end up like this, but it did. I got an infection, and I'm going to die. Phil won't say so, he refuses. But I'm going to. It would have never worked out. The terrors that come with being what we are in today's society are already so prevalent. I don't want Phil to have to go through that. I don't want him to have to live in constant fear of our love being found out. I am in love with Phil Lester. I always will be. I'm going to die, but I'm going to die knowing that Phil is safe, and our love will be a secret between us until the end of time. This is my story, and I have to accept it. But I will never stop loving him.'


End file.
